Shush!
by hazeleyes571
Summary: What happened to Doctor and Mrs Eve Redmund after Foyle left? All Eve wanted was her cousin safely ashore; she was no spy. How would the Doctor react to his wife's betrayal? Sam/CF 'ship.


Disclaimer: I do not own Foyle's War or any of the characters or script references; they remain the property of Anthony Horowitz. I make no profit here; the fic is for entertainment only.

Author: hazeleyes57

Title: Shush!

Rating: Mid rating for domestic violence and moderate description of a dead body. No smut.

'Ship: Sam/Foyle.

A/N: This is a short fic featuring two characters that were seen in the episode 'Fifty Ships' - Doctor Redmund and his wife Eve. I understand that the scene where Redmund slaps his wife and the speech afterwards had been severely edited for the US release, so I have included it in the opening italics.

I was intrigued enough about that scene to have this float around until I had to do something about it.

**Shush!**

Doctor Alan Redmund backhanded his wife across her face. She collapsed, sobbing, into an armchair. She looked up in fear at his rage-distorted face.

"_I will never speak to you again. I don't care if you stay or if you go. As far as I'm concerned you don't exist. If I come into a room I want you to leave it. If you try to speak to me I'll walk out. You can sleep in the spare room. You will prepare your own meals and you can eat them alone. I want nothing more to do with you. Now get out."_

_His wife cried out: "Alan!"_

_He raised a finger to his lips._

_Shush!_

X X X X

Detective Chief Superintendent Foyle looked at the twisted body lying on the beach at the base of the cliff at Romney Point. Now just a cold piece of flesh and bone, this had once been Doctor Redmund, the man who had resided in the house at the top of the cliff, and whose wife was now a widow.

Foyle grimaced in distaste as he straightened from his visual examination of the body. The doctor may have been an unpleasant and bigoted man, but he didn't deserve this. His face still bore the expression of horror that had preceded his death; the knowledge that these were his last moments on Earth. His fingers were torn and bloody, one hand still held a clump of chalky earth and grass, evidence that he had tried to halt his fall. On the surface, this did not have the appearance of a suicide.

Perhaps an accident?

A few feet away from the body, Foyle noticed a smashed and broken torch. It was untouched by the elements, indicating that it had not been there for very long.

Foyle made his way back up the steep path to the road at the cliff top. By the time he made it to the top, he was slightly out of breath and rather warm. He made a mental note to leave his coat in the car next time he had to walk to the beach and back. At fifty-five, his body still fitted the same size suit it had at forty-seven, but five years of good cooking since the war ended made it fit a little more snugly. He made another mental note; this one reminding him to take the dogs for longer walks.

He found Mrs Eve Redmund seated in her kitchen. He was shocked by the change in her appearance in the years since he had first met her. She had previously struck him as a timid woman, slightly in awe of her arrogant husband. The woman who appeared before him now was much older; a grey haired and thinner version of her former self. Her eyes were rimmed in red, and she was clutching a crumpled handkerchief in one hand. A cooling cup of tea was beside her. She looked up when the door opened, and recognised her visitor.

"Mr Foyle."

Foyle nodded in acknowledgment as he removed his hat.

"Mrs Redmund."

She indicated the seat opposite her but Foyle declined with a polite gesture and remained standing.

"I am very sorry to have to confirm that it does appear to be the body of your husband on the beach."

Eve Redmund nodded.

"Yes, I…I know. I went down, do you see? To see if…if…he was…"

She was unable to continue and pressed her handkerchief to her lips. She made a visible effort to contain herself, and then wiped her eyes.

Foyle studied her without appearing to do so. Eve Redmund's once brown hair was now liberally streaked with grey. She had a careworn face; time had not been kind to her, but the loss of weight had ameliorated the damage to some extent. She was pale, but her skin was clear of cosmetic of any kind. Almost as if she didn't care what face she showed the world.

"Do you have any idea what happened here?"

Eve Redmund shook her head, but didn't make eye contact.

"I have no idea."

"When did you last see your husband?"

Foyle watched the eyes of the woman in front of him take on a distant focus as she tried to remember.

"Yesterday, in the morning. He was in the garden."

"What was he doing there?"

"Well, he was not gardening. He appeared to be looking for something. I did wonder if it was the cat. I haven't seen him for a day or two."

Foyle raised an eyebrow. The Doctor Redmund he recalled didn't strike him as a cat lover.

"Does he often go missing?"

"John? No, not often. Sometimes, when he feels the need."

Foyle looked around the kitchen. An empty cat food bowl was near the open back door.

"Umm. Is he around now?"

Mrs Redmund looked at him as if she couldn't quite understand the point of the question, but she answered anyway.

"I believe he is. Please wait a moment."

She got up from her chair and crossed to the back door.

"John! Johnny! Tea time! Come here, sweetie!"

After a long moment, a small back and white shape crossed the garden at speed and shot into the kitchen. It halted at the empty food bowl and looked aound with what Foyle could only describe as outraged disgust. 'John' meowed in protest and his owner smiled briefly as she put down a small piece of food as his reward for returning. The cat snatched at the food and afterwards sniffed the air as if searching for the rest of it. Disappointed, he turned his back on the company, headed towards the door with a disdainful twitch and padded outside.

Foyle's eyes flicked from the retreating cat to Eve Redmund. If he were a betting man, he would put money on the cat belonging to Eve and not the late Doctor.

"Well, er…I'm glad the cat is all right. Would it be possible to look around the house?"

The sudden change in subject did not seem to faze Eve Redmund.

"Yes, of course, but please mind the books in…"

She trailed off and looked at Foyle bleakly. It did not need saying aloud that it no longer mattered what Alan Redmund thought about people touching the books in his office. Foyle nodded once, and then looked at the constable who was still standing beside the sink. A small twitch of Foyle's head signalled to the younger policeman that he was to remain with the new widow.

Although Foyle had visited the house during a previous investigation, he had never visited it on social grounds. As far as he knew the Redmunds had a limited social life and did not entertain. The house told its own story now though. He could imagine Sam commenting on the cold, unloved atmosphere of the place, and he would probably have gently chided her for it, but she would have been right. Something about the house was quite bleak. It was obvious that the Redmunds led separate lives. Two of the bedrooms were in use, the main bedroom had a distinctly masculine appearance, but the second one was Spartan in tone, and what few personal items lay about belonged to a woman. A third bedroom had been made over for use as a sitting room, though not much expense had been spared to make it comfortable. There were another couple of bedrooms, but they were fusty with lack of use and proper airing.

There was no sign of a suicide note in either Redmund's bedroom or study, but there was a letter from a local solicitor tucked in plain sight under a paperweight on the desk. Foyle scanned the content of the letter and raised an eyebrow in interest. On the ink blotter there was a letter addressed to the same solicitor, but Redmund had obviously been interrupted almost before he had begun, as there was nothing more than a reference quote to the previous letter on the crisp, new piece of paper.

Further investigation of the office revealed an ink stain on the carpet beside the desk. It was still damp and it looked as if no effort had been made to mop it up yet.

Foyle finished in the office and returned to the kitchen, where Eve Redmund had been given a second cup of tea, and this time she had managed to drink some of it. Although she still looked distressed, she seemed easier than she had been before, as if resigned to her new situation.

Probably shock, thought Foyle.

"I just have a few more questions, Mrs Redmund."

"Yes, of course, I understand."

"There is a letter on your husband's desk to a solicitor in Hastings. Something about changing a Will?"

"Yes. He was trying to challenge my father's Will, has been trying for a long time."

Foyle raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"_Your_ father's Will?"

Eve Redmund nodded.

"Yes. I need to explain a little, if I may?"

Foyle nodded.

Eve Redmund sighed and seemed to gather herself together.

"When my parents met Alan, they didn't really take to him. He could be a little abrupt."

Foyle looked politely interested.

_That's an understatement._

"They didn't say anything, Alan was persistent in his courtship of me, and I was flattered – suitable young men weren't exactly beating their way to my door – so eventually, when he proposed, I accepted. After we were married, my father told me that he didn't trust Alan, thought he was after my money."

Here Foyle interrupted, for clarification.

"_Your_ money?"

"Oh, yes. Alan didn't like anyone to know it, but it was me who brought the money to our marriage. I thought it rather vulgar to discuss it at all, and that suited Alan. So we let people think what they wanted. They do anyway."

"Umm."

"After a while, my parents realised that something was not right, they thought that I wasn't as happy as a newlywed should have been, and then when there were no children, they were very worried. I assured them that we were fine, and these things happen, but they didn't believe me."

Eve Redmund looked at Foyle with an air of regret.

"I did so miss the idea of children, but Alan…"

She didn't need to finish her sentence; Foyle could already see where it was going. He sympathised with the younger Mrs Redmund, but didn't show it. After a long moment, she continued.

"Fifteen years ago, my mother died suddenly. It was a huge shock to me, but it was devastating to my father. Within a year, he too was dead. I think he just gave up. He did love her so."

"How did Alan take it?"

Eve Redmund looked surprised that Foyle should have to ask.

"Oh, as you would expect of a doctor, really. Quite pragmatic."

_For that, read 'less than sympathetic'_ thought Foyle.

"It was only after the funeral that we discovered that my father had changed his Will. As his only child, he left everything to me, as was expected."

Foyle raised one eyebrow, waiting for the sting in the tale that had obviously embittered Alan Redmund.

"What my husband didn't expect was that it was left to me in trust. I have a modest income every month, enough to live on here quite comfortably. The solicitor that Alan was writing to is one of the trustees."

Foyle's expression was one of understanding.

"Trying to get the fund released to you absolutely?"

"Yes. The Trust was set to run until I divorced Alan or he died. My parents never thought that he loved me, and they wanted to protect me."

"As a father, I can understand that. Did Doctor Redmund have any luck with his attempts to change the Trust?"

"No, none whatsoever. In fact, he recently discovered that even applying for the Trust to be dissolved was an act that would cut him out entirely. My father had it set up so that any attempt by Alan to release the Trust would result in the trustees contacting me with regard to bringing criminal charges against him. Some of this I only found out myself a few weeks ago. Alan was furious."

"Furious enough to commit suicide?"

Eve Redmund looked genuinely shocked. If it was an act it was a very good one.

"My goodness, no, not Alan. He would never do something like that. That would be giving up. He wasn't one to surrender."

Foyle's eyes narrowed as he regarded the woman before him. Her comments had the ring of bitter experience.

"A stubborn man?"

Even now, as Foyle built up a picture of how life must have been for Eve Redmund, she could not betray him.

"Just very determined."

"I see." And Foyle did see, all too clearly. "So, what happens with the Trust now?"

"As I understand it, the Trust will now be dissolved and the estate will come to me."

Foyle nodded once. If Alan Redmund's death was not an accident, his wife had just given him her perfect motive.

"Will you be all right tonight? Is there anyone we could call for you, some company for a few days?"

Eve Redmund shook her head.

"Thank you, that's very kind, but there is no-one. I shall be all right now; I have Johnny for company if he's in the mood."

Foyle smiled briefly, as he was meant to.

"Very well. Obviously this matter will be reported to the coroner, as it is an unexpected death, however, on the surface it appears quite straightforward. Providing nothing unusual surfaces, we will contact you when the Coroner releases Doctor Redmund's body."

With quiet dignity, Eve Redmund got to her feet and moved around the kitchen table.

"Thank you, Chief Inspector; I appreciate your kindness and your help. If there any more questions, I'll be here."

She showed Foyle to the front door and watched him and the young constable leave. After she turned back inside and closed the door, she walked around the whole house, looking in every room with a burgeoning sense of freedom. Alan had turned their home into a cold and lonely prison. It would take time and money to turn this house back into her home, but she had plenty of both.

X X X X X

Later the same afternoon, Foyle pulled the last sheet of his report about the death of Alan Redmund from his typewriter. It only needed the Coroners report to be attached before the file was complete. Gut instinct told him that the death would be found to be accidental, but something niggled at the back of Foyle's mind about the whole affair.

He sighed before looking at his watch. If he got a move on he could be home early for once. He was about to call his driver when he remembered climbing up from the beach. He decided to walk home instead, the late summer sun still pleasant.

As he mounted the steps up to his front door he could hear the dogs barking. He smiled, anticipating the frenzied greeting that awaited him.

The door opened before Foyle got his key to the lock, and he heard a familiar feminine voice over the barking and scrabbling of paws.

"Will you get down, you mad beast!"

"Well, that's a fine greeting from my wife, I must say."

He kissed her anyway, fending off the mad mutts at the same time. She grinned.

"Hello, darling, I thought it might be you from the boys' reactions."

Having seen the sad state of Eve Redmund's marriage made Foyle especially appreciative of his own happiness. Something in his eyes must have given him away though, because the dogs were firmly shushed and sent to their baskets.

"What's up?"

"I never could fool you for long, could I, Sam? I missed you today, that young constable isn't a patch on you driving."

Samantha Foyle, formerly Stewart, smiled knowingly.

"And you haven't fooled me today either. What's really up?"

They moved into the kitchen as they were speaking, and Sam poured a fresh cup of tea for them both before taking a seat beside him.

Foyle told her about the doctor and the feeling he had that he was missing something. He also told her that Eve Redmund was the woman who had helped Hans Maier; not in any way thinking that she was helping a German spy, simply a woman who wanted her beloved cousin safe. He wondered if it was at all relevant that Hans was short for Johannes, which was John in English. He looked at Sam ruefully.

"I've missed having you to bounce ideas off. I hadn't realised how often I did it until you were gone."

She laughed gently.

"Well, it's not _all_ my fault, you know. It's partly your fault too."

Foyle reached out a hand and Sam took it in hers, turning his palm to lay it on her rounded stomach.

He smiled, enchanted as always when he felt a kick.

"Can you ever forgive me?"

Sam's face was serenely content and mildly amused.

"Already done. Although perhaps you should ask me in another month; I'm all right _now_, but I might have changed my mind by then."

Foyle looked startled.

"Bless you Sam; I knew talking to you would help. Eve Redmund said the same thing 'I shall be all right _now_'. She inadvertently told me that she had not been all right _before_. I did wonder how he would have taken his wife's betrayal that night."

"Do you think that she killed him?"

Foyle thought about Eve Redmund's reactions.

"No, I don't think that she did, but I'm certain that she knows more than she's saying. They lived completely separate lives in the same house. What a terrible existence for them both."

"That's so sad. I wonder what happened."

"I don't think we'll ever know now, not unless she tells us herself."

Sam got to her feet, picked up a tea towel and went to the oven.

"Well, forget her for now, supper is ready."

Foyle shook his head with amusement. Not even pregnancy had affected his wife's appetite.

As he watched his beautiful wife tuck in to her meal, he thought back over the years since the war ended. His son had survived, as had he and Sam. She had convinced him that he was deserving of another chance at love, and they were awaiting the arrival of the latest Foyle.

He was truly blessed, and thank the Lord, he knew it.

X X X X X

Eve Redmund watched the sunset from her back door. It was a calm and beautiful evening, not at all like last night. As the sun's rays died away for another day, she recalled the previous evening.

The first she had seen of anything was poor Johnny coming haring out of Alan's office and _him_ shouting his head off about the 'bloody' cat. Something about spilled ink. Whatever it was, Alan was in a fury, actually _throwing_ things at her beloved Johnny. The cat had shot out of the back door with Alan in heated pursuit, waving that torch of his, threatening all sorts. She wasn't too worried about John, he could take care of himself, and he would hide for a while as usual, until Alan cooled off.

Eve smiled. John was a masterstroke of genius. After a year of Alan's silence, the stray cat had wandered in one night and stayed ever since. Calling the cat 'John' had annoyed Alan, he had known exactly why she picked that name; it had been a thorny reminder of her betrayal every time he heard it.

But last night had been different. Alan's fury about the Trust must have goaded him beyond reason. His flight out of the back door and across the garden after the cat was not a sensible thing to do with a house on a cliff top.

When neither John nor Alan had returned after several minutes, Eve went to look for John.

She heard her name being called. It had been so long since Alan had spoken to her that she almost didn't believe the sound. But she followed the fear-filled voice until she found herself standing on the cliff edge. She looked down and saw Alan ten feet below her, clinging on to the edge of the face and a small clump of grass.

"There you are you dozy woman. Get a rope and help me up, I'm stuck."

Eve looked at her husband's face. She didn't move. Her husband glared at her.

"Well? Are you just going to stand there? Go and get some help, quickly woman! I'm slipping!"

She could see that he was telling the truth. She watched impassively as he lost his grip on the small outcrop of rock face as it crumbled under his fingers. His voice was filled with angry panic.

"Are you blind as well as stupid? Get some rope, now!"

Alan Redmund slipped another foot and he scrabbled for purchase on the loose chalky rock around him. His voice no longer contained the cool and icy tone that had condemned Eve to a life of silence and loneliness, a life without so many of the courtesies most people take for granted.

"Eve! Eve! Get some rope, now! This is murder, you stupid cow! Eve! EVE!"

Eve leant forward so that her husband could see and hear her perfectly. She raised one finger to her lips.

"Shush…"

She turned and walked away. She did not look back.

A soft meow behind Eve brought her back to the present. She bent down and gave the cat a scratch at the base of his tail where he loved it. His back legs danced in excitement and Eve smiled.

"Hello, sweet Johnny. Would you like some fish?"

The End.


End file.
